I’m sorry things got weird. We had a connection, I thought that meant it might lead to something more than friendship. The movies lied to me, they told me that’s how it works. They don’t bother telling me that most times, it doesn’t mean anything.
How was I supposed to know otherwise? Nobody told me that part. You just seemed like an awesome chick and we got along so well, so I thought we could be more than friends. I didn’t mean to make it awkward, I just didn’t want to be alone anymore.
I got confused. Nobody ever listens to me, so when you did, I thought it was because you liked me back. My friends never treated me that way, so I missed the cues. It didn’t help that you’re flirty, but I should’ve known it didn’t mean anything, it never does. I should’ve known I wasn’t special to you.
I still think about you; wonder how you are. I could ask, but it hurts to talk to you. I’ve gotten better about not looking at your Facebook profile, and I deleted the pictures you sent. I wish we could still be in each others lives, but I’m too ashamed of how it ended and too hurt by the loss. Maybe another time, but not now.
Goodbye, and remember that I cared for you once.
I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much before. I’ve cried enough that my eyes feel dry. I cried myself to sleep this morning and when I woke up, there was still my crying left to do. I’ve had a lot to mourn these past 24 hours.
Right around 4 PM Wednesday night, I got a call telling me that I was fired. Not because of poor performance or because I fucked up or anything so deserving as that. No, I was told I was fired because they had found cheaper labor in other countries. Worse still, they had brought them in several months ago and made us train them. Yes, I saw this coming, but no, I was not prepared. I figured they would at least do me the courtesy of finishing out my contract, they owed me that much. I was one of the best damned moderators that they had.
I never once applied for the job. I joined the forums back in August of 2009. Back then, I was just an avid player of a pretty awesome game <name withheld>. When I first joined up, I would mostly lurk, and read, and get to know how things worked there. After a bit of time, I finally started posting. First it was just to ask some questions I had had, then it was to answer questions that others had. Eventually, I got in the full swing of it and was spending nearly as much time on the forums bullshitting and answering questions as I was playing the game. I loved it. The game and the forums were helping me through my depression. I finally had a place to express myself, talk with others, and help.
After a few months of doing that, the Community Manager for the game contacted me and asked if I wanted to be a Volunteer Moderator. I jumped at the chance as I had been secretly working towards it for about a month. I never asked anyone, but I did what I could to emulate the moderators without going too far. I was so excited to be asked and get to do it! I had set a goal and accomplished it. I had not done that in quite some time. It was an exciting time for me. I got to spend my day plying the game I enjoyed and answering questions about it in a semi-official matter.
I did the volunteer gig for 9 months, right up until they decided to discontinue the volunteer position. At that time, the current CM for another game asked me to put in a resume to be considered for the Super Moderator position. Within 24 hours of submitting my resume I they were doing a background check and I had a job, provided everything looked alright. Which it did. After 3 horrendous years without any income whatsoever, I had a job. Things were finally looking up.
When they brought me on as a Super Moderator, they put me on a different game, <name withheld>. It was an awesome placement for me. I had been playing the game since the first hour it was live and all of my mod friends from <name withheld> were now working there, so it was like a reunion. I loved it. I was working 55+ hours per week and making decent money because of it. On top of that, I was modding a far more active forum and answering even more questions. It was probably the single best job I’ve had so far. The hours were rough, but the pay made it worth it. It allowed me to start doing stuff for myself, which I hadn’t ever really been able to do at any point in my life.
In all, it was a great time. The only sour part was that I ended up having to take a 3 month hiatus after one year because of some bullshit law regarding contract workers. That was tough, but I made it through, barely. After my 3 months was up, I reapplied and was immediately brought back on. During my absence, they had enacted some new styles of moderation, which were difficult but not impossible for me to work with. The real issue for me was my placement. I got a game that I didn’t care much for, but a forum that had a vibrant group of posters that I could care for. So, in spite of not liking the game, I came to love the forums. I had inherited them from another, but I tried to make them my own. I think I did a good job of it and I enjoyed my time there.
After a few months back on the forums, they finally asked me to do something that I had been waiting over a year for: to take over a game’s forums from the inception. I was finally given a game from day one and given some free reign to make them my own forums and help mold the community. I cherished the opportunity and did what I could to make it a great forum while still working on the previous forum I had been assigned to. Overall, it was a fun time for me and I would have loved to keep doing it, but after a couple months longer, they offered me a promotion, though it was just in title only (no pay raise or anything).
This is when the end game was enacted though. They brought in other moderators from outside of the US and moved us to another new moderation style that pretty much nobody wanted but would provide better coverage. Everything was changing. Initially, it seemed like it would be for the better, but things changed. Eventually, we started to see what was happening, how we were being pushed out. I tried to overlook it, tell myself that I was seeing things and that they wouldn’t get rid of us. And then I got that phone call. In that moment, it all came crashing down and I saw the man behind the curtain. They had manipulated us into training our replacements and getting them ready to take over for us. It was a sickening feeling to realize all of that.
I’m not overly bitter about it though. It was handled poorly, but the company had still given me nearly 2 years of employment which had been a big part of my healing process from my deepest depression. The job had also lead me to a lot of people that I will forever call friend. It was tough saying goodbye to the job and knowing that I wouldn’t get to see everyone every day any longer. They were a part of my daily routine and I knew it would be tough without them.
However, that wasn’t the toughest part. Compared to what else I had to do that Thursday, everything else was easy. After work that Thursday, I had to say goodbye to a good friend; my first.
It wasn’t something I wanted to do. I didn’t want to say goodbye to her. I wanted to stay her friend and have her around, but I wasn’t being her friend. I was waiting for her to change her mind and realize that she wanted to be with me, and it was killing me. Waiting for her and knowing it wouldn’t happen caused me pain every day. Every time she signed in, I hurt. I couldn’t do it any longer The only possible solution was to say goodbye to her for a time, no matter how badly I wanted to avoid it (and had avoided it).
That may have been one of the most difficult things I have ever done. The whiskey definitely helped it happen, but I knew it had to be done. I didn’t even remotely keep myself together for the conversation. I haven’t cried that hard in a long time. We weren’t even together and it was tearing me apart. It’s times like that that I wish I didn’t care, or at least, that I cared for the right ones. I have a hard habit of falling for women that will never be with me.
When it was all said and done, I ended up just crawling in bed and sobbing myself to sleep. She was never mine… but it killed me to say goodbye. I never wanted it, but what I wanted was never going to happen. The hardest part was that I shared a part of myself with her that I don’t let anybody see. I showed her my soul. I let her see just who I am inside of all of this. And that’s the part that hurts. The part that knows she could accept it and be okay with it but could never love it. And all it wants is to be loved. And it is the part that still hurts today, though it doesn’t hurt nearly as much. We weren’t together, I can’t devote long to mourning our parting.
If I had done this sooner, these last few months may have been very different. I might have been able to make some progress like I had been doing before she came into my life. I put a lot aside to pursue her, and even after she told me it wouldn’t happen, I still tried. I couldn’t help it. There’s a very lost little boy inside of me that just wants to be loved and he will attach himself to anything he thinks will give it to him, regardless of what I think or feel about the situation. I tried so hard to change things, to make sure I didn’t get hurt. The only thing that really changed was that I managed to tell her I wanted to fuck her and that I was able to end it. It didn’t matter though. I still got hurt. That doesn’t mean I won’t try again, it just sucks knowing I have to try again. Who knows, maybe this next one will lead to a girlfriend.
I just don’t know how many more times I can be hurt.
And now, I’m hurt and adrift with no real direction in any part of my life. The only constant I had was taken from me because they found someone willing to work for less money. I’ll survive – I always do – I’m just not sure what levels of survival I will have to use. The last time I got laid off it took me three years and a shitload of luck to get a new job. I hope it doesn’t come to that again. I might not survive it. I barely made it out the last time and I am nowhere near where I was before it happened last time.
So, I lied. I think there is one more blog to write before my work week is over. This is a blog I have avoided. It involves the truth that I hide even from myself. It involves all that I have discussed before, but it goes far deeper than that. It cuts to the heart of my fears in starting a relationship. It took me a long time to accept it as truth, but I’ve yet to really be able to express it to anyone. It’s pitiful and pathetic. It paints me as exceedingly weak and it calls into question my mental health. It is the basis for why I question my own sanity and why I accept that insanity is not far away.
That may not even play a part in it. I’m sure I’m not the only one to have done it and I know that it was borne out of a fracture started long ago. If I hadn’t been broken down and berated by everyone around me, maybe it would not have happened, but it did and it scares me. I question all that I see in women because of this one folly. It was a major folly though and it is difficult to express…
Much of what I saw and loved in Anna and much of what we had together had no basis in reality. I invented much of it. She was real. We did spend time together. We had moments. But, really, we spent one week together every year at camp, and that was mostly it. I saw her a few times outside of that and we wrote each other letters some, but not much. We both professed feelings for each other, but I carried much of it. I didn’t really love the girl that she was. I loved the idyllic version of her that resided in my mind.
It all came crashing down that final day. Reality met dream and reality won out. It killed me.
What I’ve talked about before was true as well. She didn’t help it with her words, but how could she have? I didn’t know then that who I saw in my mind was not the girl that sat across that bench from me. Everything I’ve written about about how her words hurt me is true, I never really got past it and it was detrimental to me. Really though, it was just the final blow. It was the culmination of a lifetime of being beaten down by ever kid in school, watching my mother go in and out of the hospital, the dissolution of my parent’s marriage, and many other things. It was the death of my childhood.
When all that had come before it kept getting more and more difficult to deal with, I clung harder to the illusion that was the relationship. I needed something to believe in and hope for and I chose love, even if it was false. I’d lost my dignity and my confidence (and much, much more) to the bullying. I had lost my sense of family and love to the divorce. I was even losing my friends as we got older and I withdrew deeper. So, as I lost all I had I clung to the only thing I could see that had made me happy at any time in the recent past. And I’ve paid dearly for it.
Until recently, I hadn’t dealt with anything leading up to that day. It change everything I am, but I just sort of went along with it. A new version of me was born that day and he didn’t really want to live. He just did what he had to to survive and did not survive well. I couldn’t thrive. I ran away, moved to California for school and then Texas but never found much. Even when I cam home, I couldn’t find anything. Everything I was running from was finally catching up to me and one night after to much gin, I found a knife and tried to end it all. I couldn’t do it though. I had it on my wrist, pressing the point in, but I didn’t actually have the will to pierce the flesh. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. It was a move borne of desperation and a small part of me fought against it and kept me from doing it.
It was after that night that I went to my deepest and darkest places. I didn’t talk to any of my friends for about 6 months after that. Everything I ran from had finally consumed me and I retreated deep within myself, first to escape and then to deal with it. That was 3 years ago and I’m still trying to work it all out, though I am now doing so openly and talking with others about it. I have come a long way since that day but I still have a long way to go.
The experience I had of falling for someone that existed more in my mind than in the real world has tainted all encounters since. I second guess myself at every turn, wondering if what was said means what they said or if I have read more into it than was meant. If I did it once, it is not such a far stretch to think I would do it again. Because of that I couldn’t trust anything that was happening. Still don’t, really. I still tell myself I’m being an idiot every time something seems to be starting. Even my recent trip was tainted by it. She told me that people mean what they say and that we are no longer in high school, and she was right, but at the same time it is not the other person I am questioning, it is my own mind. I lost trust in myself and if I can’t trust myself, I’m royally fucked. And royally fucked I have been.
I still don’t really know how to move forward from this. I do not know what to change to find trust in myself again. The crux is, I am still not ready for a relationship but the only thing I can thing of to fix it is to go out and keep trying, even if I keep failing. Admitting to it and really, truly accepting it are a good start though. I’ll figure out the rest somehow. I have to. If I ever want to have a meaningful relationship, I’m going to have to get past this. I think that while I work on it, I need to just put any option of a relationship out of my mind for a time. That thought still hurts though. I’ve craved having someone in my life for a very long time. That may have been misplaced needs though. Not sure yet.
I feel like there is more to this, but I can’t find it yet. For now, I will leave you with a song. This song comes from an album I bought just two days after the last time I saw Anna, the day it all crashed down. The album spoke to me about what had happened. I have always clung to this song thinking of her. A part of me always knew just how apt it was, especially the final lament of ‘She isn’t real, I can’t make her real’. I never could see just how true the words were until much later. The song is Vermilion, pt. 2.
I sometimes wonder what would happen if she found my blog and saw that I was talking about her 8 years later. In truth, I while I have been cognizant of her in the last 8 years, I have not focused on her much for the last 5/6 years. It took me a couple years before her name left my lips, before I stopped seeing her when my eyes closed. Once I did, she faded to the back of my mind though. Her ghost was there, moving around other things, but she was no longer a huge force. Even now, I talk of her and how that day changed me, but she is not on my mind that much. It is the changes that happened that day that I think of, that I wrestle with and am trying to overcome. She just happens to be there.
I’ve been mulling over two thoughts today. The first is, where does one find these fabled ‘woman that think intelligence is sexy’? I’ve met all of two in my life, both of them this year. Neither was right for me. Granted, the first one almost took my virginity and the second one did, but still, I’m not actually looking for sex. What I want is a relationship and I know no woman is ever going to look at me and think ‘My god, I need that guy’. I just don’t engender that upon first look. However, I have always known that if the right woman sits down and talks with me, she very well may think ‘My god, I need that guy’. It’s the nature of who I am. I’m not ugly, just big. But being big limits the number of woman that will find me attractive. My intelligence does increase that number some, but it is still limited. I have the personality and intelligence that women want, but not the looks. Though I am working on becoming a smaller version of me, I will never be skinny or ripped. Who I am is a big guy, and that is how I plan to stay. I just don’t want to be this fucking big.
In the end, I know that my intelligence will play a big factor in finding someone, the question I have trouble with is how does that happen? For someone that ironically craves order and sees patterns in everything, it is very difficult to accept that meeting someone will be purely random and by chance. There are ways to skew that random, but it is still random. While I do love random and the non-sequitur, random in aspects of my life like love or day-today things bothers me. I can’t help it. I need some form of structure. I think that may b my biggest issue with wanting someone. I can’t really accept that it boils down to chaos.
This brings me to my next thought of the day. I’ve been talking about wanting and needing someone in my life for a long time, but why? Do I actually need someone in my life? Will it solve all of my problems and make me whole? The hard answer is, No. No, it will not. I do not actually need someone in my life. I’ve made it to 26 without anyone, I clearly know how to live alone. I don’t live as well as I could/should, but I can do it. I don’t need anyone to take care of me (though I did when I checked out of reality). My problems will not go away just because I meet someone either. They are not a cure-all and it would be horribly cruel to treat them as such. I am the only one that can fix myself.
In truth, I do not need someone, I just very much want it. That begs the question though, why do I want it? I can’t really answer that. Part of it is seeing how happy others are in relationships. I don’t think I’ve ever really been all that happy in my life. There are spurts of it, but it has been a very average to below average sort of life. Part of it also that the happiest times I remember are when I had someone I was talking with, though those talks rarely ever led to anything more than talking.
I’ve also put myself through hell by wondering if I would ever meet someone. It has been a central thought of mine since I was 13 or so and all of my friends started dating. The longer I went without having met anyone, the more difficult it became for me. I felt left behind. I felt… broken. Which is asinine. I was not lesser for having gone without. A relationship does not define who you are. You are the only one that can define you. But I have always missed that point. Even those friends that did not have steady partners were still out there hooking up and having sex. That never happened for me either. I was always on the sidelines looking in, waiting to get put in the game. I wasn’t though. While it did take me 26 years, I found quality over quantity. I also found that I am just not made for random hookups. I need something else there if I am going to have sex.
All of this leaves me with much to think about. I don’t think I could swear off the looking and wondering, but I think I can put it to the back burner and stop focusing on it. If it truly is borne of chaos, watching it and fretting over it will do nothing for me. Which means letting go of it for now will help me find peace with who I am and make me more ready for it when it finally comes.
I have a lot in me that I need to write about. I have a lot that is trying to escape me. I’ve spent a lifetime repressing everything, but I am trying to change that. The writing helps. I have worked through a lot of things through this writing. I have already changed some opinions and thoughts from the very first posts to now.
Thus far I have covered my loneliness, my fear, my hatred, and my pain. I’ve really only touched on those things though, so there are many more posts like that to come. However, there are other things I need to get out. I still haven’t touched bullying, religion, faith, music, drugs, or art, to name a few. There is much I have left to write about. I know there are a few posts about bullying in me, just as there is an entire series on religion. I may start with an outline for the religion posts and relegate them to their own page. There was a time in my life when I was supposed to preach and though it is no longer my calling, that man is still within me. Music and art… well, they fall under religion too. So do drugs, in a sense. These things will get their own posts as well.
I’ve only been doing this for all of 15 days and once this is published, it will be my 10th blog to date and the 4th in just over 48 hours. In total I have written 5736 words (this blog not counted). The darker the subject, the longer it has been. My shortest posts were about being happy. Unfortunately, that can’t be helped yet. Happiness is still a rarity for me. There is much darkness waiting to be expelled, so those will still tend to be the longest posts. I long for the day when I can write about how well things are going, but at this time, I can’t even fathom how they would look or sound.
Though I know what I feel I need to write about, I cannot predict when, how, or why I will write about things. The writing just happens. I have a feeling this week will see a lot of posts though. I will be left to my own devices for some time, which means the odds of my going into my head are high. However, rather than dwelling on it all, I will come here. This is my release, my catharsis. This is my sanity.
For now, I write only for myself. I know I have friends and family that read it, though it is still just a small handful of people. I am no longer going to hide myself away. I may not approach anyone directly about what I write, but in time I will be open to discussing it. In truth, I did not expect what has come of this. I wrote that first blog and it opened a floodgate. I expected to be my old cheeky and self deprecating self from my days on myspace doing this, but I was very wrong. Those blogs were more about stroking my ego. I wrote them because I wanted people to see just how much pain I had, like I was bragging about it. I stopped when others stopped reading or commenting. Now, I have few reads and few comments, but there’s no fucking stopping this. This is blast off. This is aiming for the stars because fuck stopping at the moon or mars. This will be me. It will be a telling of my journey. I’ve started it already, but, for now, I am still writing the preamble. I have to work through the past to get to the present and clear the way for the future.
I’m finally unlocking parts of my mind I thought I had lost. When I look back on my darkest times, I see that they were literally dark. I see it. The memories are dim and tinged in grime. There are some I need to clean off and truly explore, but there are others that disgust me and make me wonder how I could have let that happen. When I look at my present, it is clear, though chaotic. I can’t really look to the future yet. It’s still hazy, but I see there is sunshine there, it just has to burn the haze off. In spite of how I talk in other blogs about how I can’t stand fucking waiting anymore, I realize I don’t have much longer to wait. I may end up waiting a few years yet to find Her, but in a few months I think I will be so busy I won’t have the time to feel the waiting press upon me.
This is just one of several avenues I am exploring. It has already consumed me, but I have other things I will focus on as well. I have my weight loss to work on. I am still not where I need to be with exercising, but I am working on that and actually don’t mind walking places anymore, I just happen to live in the hills and am not quite built to handle that yet. I am working on my eating though. I no longer crave fast food all the time. I eat it rarely (for me). At most, it is once a week and even then, it will only be 1 or 2 small items at the most. Yes, that’s not perfect, but I am not that. There was a time when I would eat it every day, or more. I also do not buy any frozen foods, a former staple of mine. I do not keep any junk food in the house anymore. I used to buy a box of zingers and finish it in a night. And, you know, I’m happy about it. The few times I have had fast food it hasn’t been satisfying and has fucked with my body enough that I didn’t want to go back.
On top of that, I have my painting. It’s still in the fledgling stages, but it is getting there. I have already had one paid job. That came 3 months after I started really painting again. I do not know where the next 3 months will take me. I even set up a Facebook page specifically for my painting, Kustom Painting by forgotn. As I clear out some of my demons, I know that my art will flourish in a way it never has before. I had no idea I could paint what I could when I picked up that airbrush 3 months ago. It literally just happened. Before I knew it, I had something I loved and was excited about, something I have rarely felt about my art before. I know that I am only just beginning with it, and already it is far greater than I ever expected. it will take me far. I strive to be the best. I want people to know my name because of my art. I want to be featured in Airbrush Action and other national publications. And I know I will.
I even have music again. It never really left me, but during my darkest time I ended up with 25,000+ songs because I was seeking anything that could fulfill me and not finding it in any of the music I found. It was just collecting it for the sake of collecting it. it gave me no fulfillment. However, I found it again. I found it in a greater way than I did even at 14. It motivates me again. I am enjoying all of the new stuff I find. I thought I had varied tastes before, but now it’s exploding. I even found release in some stuff. I found one song that touched my soul, and it came from a place I never expected. The first time I heard Created a Monster by Krizz Kaliko, I choked up. The first time I heard it after my trip, I broke down completely. It allowed me to mourn that broken child that was bullied for all those years.
Though I have still yet to find love, I am finding that I am easier around people in general again. At the darkest, I had developed a fairly severe case of agoraphobia. I had trouble going to my best friend’s house, let alone somewhere where many people would be. After my 6 month break from humanity, I did work to get back out there. Fight Night helped with that greatly. It was a once monthly event where I would be surrounded by people I did not know, forcing myself to deal with, at the very least, the sensation of being around them even if I did not engage them. Now, when I go to Fight Night (or any other social function) I do get a bit nervous beforehand, but I openly engage people while I am there, something that just 2 years ago filled me with so much fear I had issues getting out of bed.
That comfortability with people will continue to grow and will eventually lead me to a place where I am truly open. This will be compounded by the increased confidence I will gain in losing weight, painting, and generally becoming more comfortable with myself.
I’ve had a friend telling me I needed to learn to love myself. I kept telling her I didn’t know how, that I couldn’t. I seem to have been wrong. This started as an overview of where this blog would go and what I wanted to do with it, but I think it has evolved into a love letter to myself. I clearly have things that I can love, I just overlook them and marginalize them. I know I’m an amazing person. I know I am one of the good ones. I just kept seeing myself through the eyes of those that had scorned me. For once, I think I am seeing them through my own eyes. I see that there is stuff worth loving. I still see things to hate as well, but I am learning to be alright with the ones I cannot change. There will be days I can’t look past them, but eventually, the days I don’t notice them will outnumber them. I am growing. Far faster than I realize.
It’s interesting to notice this stuff so randomly. I hadn’t planned this, I just started writing. The writing helps me explore things without getting overly stuck on certain parts. When I think this stuff through, I tend to find one aspect of what could be an entire post and obsess on it. I would blow it up into a macro and get lost in a single pixel, ignoring the rest of the picture that loomed so greatly around me. This blog is growth. It is catharsis. It is me. It is still very wordy (I am approaching the 2000 word mark for this blog), but I think it has to be for now. Eventually, I will change that. I will add art to it and I will design it more. Even tonight, I changed the theme for the blog. It is far less dark and I think the tone of the newer posts reflects that. In a sense, all of this is working to bring color back into my life. The more color, the less darkness. I’m still living in a mostly gray world, but I am finding bits of color here and there. Even the gray is an improvement over the pure black that it was just 2 years ago. There’s even a bit of pink coming up soon. That should be an interesting time. Plenty of exploration to do there.
As I start this new paragraph, I realize that it is likely to be the last. I think it is time to draw this to an end. I have covered many things here, but I think the one that will affect me most is that there is much to love in myself. There is also still much to explore. And so, for the first time in any of these writings, I do not sign off dark, or even happy, but contented, something I have not felt in a long time.
And thus, I bid you good night. I love you all and will be back sooner rather than later.
I worry about my future. My past is fucked. My present is… manageable. My future is unknown.
Things are clearly changing for the better. Truthfully, it is happening fast. It has really only been 3 months since I really started trying to change things. I’ve had the tools to paint for nearly 2 years now but I didn’t really pick the airbrush back up until 2 months ago. I’ve had the support around me to lose weight for many years, but I never asked for help until 3 months ago. Things really are going well for me now, but all I can think about is how I’m still doing it all alone. I have my friends and my family, but I need more than that. My greatest fear is that I will never see it. Some part of me knows otherwise, but it refuses to accept it based upon my own fucked up history.
In truth, I fucked myself over on it all. I’m the reason I’m still alone. I’ve wanted it so badly for so long, but I never really tried for it. Not after Anna destroyed me. We were just kids and I was a fool beyond belief, but I pinned hopes on her and I didn’t know how wrong I was until it was far too late. I was wrong to have wanted from her what I did, but there was no need for her to let me down the way that she did. In one fell swoop, she dashed everything I was. She cut the fragile little thread that was keeping me from going over the edge.
On that day, I died. May 23rd, 2004. She told me I wasn’t good enough. That I wasn’t a strong enough man of god for her. That I needed serious help. And I believed her. I gave up on everything I had known after she said that. I never actively pursued anyone after that. I stopped going to church. I stopped caring about anything. I stopped being that christian boy I had always been. I’d never cared much for myself prior to that, but afterwards… there was nothing but self-hatred. I was broken and I had no idea how to fix it. She wasn’t the cause of the entire breakage, she was just the last hammerfall, the one that shattered the last of what remained. And through it all, I blamed everyone but myself. I was the cause of it, but it was easier to accept that others had done it.
I’ve only told two people what happened that day. It took me years to tell it the first time and the second time was just a few weeks back. Much change has centered around finally talking about it and realizing how greatly it has affected me. I thought I had moved past it a few years ago when I finally realized some hard truths about her and the entire situation, but I think really, I was just coping with it all. It seems ridiculous that one girl could have had that power over me, but she did. I doubt she even knew. I was far more invested in it all than she was, and that was a big part of the downfall.
It was also something I repeated for many years afterwards. I never actively sought anyone… ever, but I would find women on the internet and I would let them use me for whatever emotional needs they had so that I could at least feel some semblance of a relationship. I always knew it was headed nowhere, but I let myself care just so I could feel something. I’d let it play out until they disappeared or I couldn’t handle it anymore. I always told myself they were the ones turning on me and hurting me, but I was the one doing it all. I was using them as much as they used me. They were surrogates. I could love them knowing I would be able to hate them when it ended. I wanted to feel bad. I was punishing myself. For what, I do not know, but I know that’s what it was. I thought I deserved it.
One major change recently was when I started to play that out again. I managed to change it though. I managed to express how I felt and what I wanted, something I never did before. It’s turned out well for me. We’ll not be together in the manner I wanted, but it has been an amazing friendship and I do not mourn that it will be something other than what I wanted. It turned out to be not what I wanted, but what I needed, which is far greater.
Normally, I would start to spiral after I had begun talking to a new woman. It was inevitable. Things would start off well and then I would eventually turn to darker and darker places until it consumed me and I would turn on myself. The last time I did it, I went so deep I cut off contact with everyone. It got bad. There was alcohol and a knife… though nothing happened there. That’s where I gained much of the weight I am trying to shed now. I turned on myself and I gave up. I didn’t talk to anyone for 6 months and it all fed back into itself, drawing me deeper and deeper, but I’ve talked on that plenty before.
This time though, it was different. It started in a similar manner, but it will not end anywhere close to where the others did. Things I never foresaw are happening and will happen. I still fear it though. Until the time I find the one that wants to be with me long term, I will always fear that I am building things up in my mind until they are far greater than reality ever was. I’ve done it every other time, why not this one? It’s a thought I need to quell, but it is persistent and pervasive. I fight it and tell myself I am fucking with my own head, but it is there. The thought is weaker than it used to be though.
At the end of the day, I’ve come a long way, but I still have further yet to go. I have to find a place where I am happy with myself before I can be happy with someone else. That thought hurts some, because I can’t remember the last time I was happy with myself. I’m closer than ever before, but I still have to wait, and that is difficult for me, though I’ve really only been waiting a few months now. I know it’ll come in time, but I get impatient. I always have been.
For the now, my present is good, even if I have darker moments still. I am working towards losing weight (successfully). I have begun painting and even started a Facebook page specifically for my art. I’m no longer terrified to leave the house and have actually been actively trying to go out and do things. I’m in a much better place than I have been in years. There’s still some serious shit wrong, but it’s not as overwhelming as it all used to be.
That said, my future still worries me. I can’t see it and the unknown scares me.